I'll share a secret with you about myself. Something I have never told anyone...so please bare (bear?) with me.
I like to recreate people's lives. I somewhat enjoy looking at their pictures and reading their tweets, or blogs, or facebook posts, and recreating the events that lead up to them. Sometimes I look at pictures and from one picture to the next I create a story. Sometimes it's a long story that goes from picture to picture and sometimes it's just a six word story of a snapshot image of their life.
This is odd to me.
But I write stories about many things.
If I am bored at work, I'll write my work day out. Often times I speak in third person and add in events that aren't happening but if they were to happen, it would make my day awesome. My favorite, of course, is to write short subway stories about the many people on the MTA.
I once saw a girl crying on the 4 train. She was a butch, Hispanic, short black hair, and dark shades. She was looking down but the tears were running down her face and she kept wiping them away with the sleeve of her black hoodie (RIP Trayvon). The whole ride I wondered what was wrong and finally I decided that her one true love broke up with her. I mean, it MUST have been that...she went to see her lover, riding all the way from Brooklyn to Harlem. And when she arrived at her house, the girl told her that she was no longer gay and wanted to go back to her ex boyfriend. Heartbroken and pissed, the crying girl rain from the apartment and tried to mask her pain behind some Raybans. Oh the story played out quite sadly...and it ended with me walking over to her, handing her a tissue, and talking about it with her. In reality, it ended with her getting off some stop that led to a hospital. The story quickly changed to one of her rushing to her grandmother's side while she was dying. The pain.
Sometimes it's a sad song...